


Safe/Sound

by erin_emily_writes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Flashbacks/Memories, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, brief non-graphic violence, diverges after Cap2, like super brief but thought I should mention it just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8403541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erin_emily_writes/pseuds/erin_emily_writes
Summary: Sometimes Bucky has to stay behind, away from a fight, away from Steve. He generally is not a fan.





	

— November 1934 —

The icy wind bit at Bucky’s face and whipped through his hair as he strode down the street toward the Rogerses’ building. A particularly strong gust blew by; he quickened his pace. He checked his watch, relieved that he was on time so far.

He’d left his shift at the factory later than usual, hoping the boss would reward his extra work with a slightly heftier payment at the end of the month. Consequently, he’d rushed home to help his mother with dinner for his sister before cleaning up and dashing out to meet Steve, who had recently recovered from a particularly nasty bout of the flu. Sarah had forced Bucky to stay away while Steve was sick — “If you catch this, James, I’ll never forgive myself,” she’d said — and it had been two weeks since they had met to listen to the radio and shoot the breeze, as was their Friday night tradition. Bucky had missed it, and he was sure Steve had been lonely while his mother was at work at the hospital.

Within a few minutes, Bucky arrived at the building and hurried inside. He started up the five flights of stairs to the Rogerses’ apartment, bounding up them two at a time. A smile played across his face as he neared his destination and a long-overdue reunion with his best friend. He pulled the spare key Sarah had made for him out of his pocket as he reached the fourth floor.

He’d almost reached the fifth floor when he first heard it. His heart sank and the smile slid from his face as the unmistakable sound of Steve’s hacking coughs echoed down the stairwell. Bucky slowed his pace, sullenly climbing the last few stairs and walking down the hall to apartment 23. He gave two quick knocks before unlocking the door and entering.

He was greeted with a familiar sight. To his right was the kitchen, where Sarah had left their meager dinner on the stove and the oven on and open in an attempt to warm the room. To his left, Sarah kneeled next to the couch, wiping Steve’s brow and speaking soothingly to him. Steve himself looked paler than usual, and Bucky could tell just by his face — which was the only part of him visible under what seemed to be every blanket in the house — that he hadn’t eaten properly in days, if not longer.

Bucky closed the door quietly and made his way over to the couch. Sarah looked around at him.

“James,” she said. “I forgot you were coming.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Rogers,” Bucky replied. He looked down at Steve, who had stirred at his voice. “Looks like you’re in quite a state there, Stevie.”

“Nah, Buck, I’m just peachy,” Steve said, his typically ornery personality coming out despite being laid up. “Ready to li-” He was hit with another coughing spell before he could finish the thought.

Sarah and Bucky helped him sit up a bit until the fit was over. Steve leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes again, his breathing ragged. Sarah wiped his brow again and rearranged his blankets before standing. She looked at Bucky and motioned toward the kitchen. He followed her to the sink, where she turned on the water to rinse and warm up the cloth.

“I thought he was better,” Bucky said, unable to hide his disappointment.

Sarah sighed. “Two days ago, he seemed as healthy as he’d ever been. But yesterday…” she trailed off.

“This,” Bucky finished her sentence. “What is it now? More flu?”

Sarah hesitated a moment, then turned the tap on higher and looked up at Bucky. “I’m afraid it might be pneumonia.”

Bucky felt a pang of fear.

“Have you spoken to the doctor yet?”

Sarah shook her head. “He needs to go soon.” She glanced around the apartment at the unfinished dinner, the unswept floor, a pile of clothes and towels just visible inside her bedroom door. “But I’ve got so much to do…”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. “Take him. I’ll take care of all this. Leave me a list, I’ll get it done.”

“Oh, James, I can’t ask you to do that.”

Bucky shook his head. “You’re not asking — I’m insisting. Please, take care of Steve.”

Sarah pulled Bucky into a hug. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“It’s nothing,” Bucky replied, patting her on the back. “I’ll sit with him while you get ready to go.”

Sarah nodded, and Bucky went back to Steve. Bucky mostly entertained Steve with stories from his jobs and his family while Sarah gathered a bag of clothes and all of Steve’s medication to take with them to the hospital.

Bucky was in the middle of telling Steve about his sister’s new obsession with a neighborhood cat when Steve spoke up.

“Buck, I need you to promise me something,” he said, his tone suddenly serious.

Bucky furrowed his brow. “What is it?”

“If this goes south —”

“No, Steve.” Bucky shook his head and looked away. “I won’t have this conversation with you.”

“I’m not fooling around, Buck. Listen,” Steve said, giving Bucky’s shoulder a weak shove.

Bucky turned back, his jaw set.

“If this goes south, you gotta take care of my mom,” Steve said. “She needs someone, and if I’m not here, she’ll need you. Promise?”

“I will if you tell me you’ll get better so you can take care of her yourself.”

Steve gave a halfhearted laugh. “Deal.”

Just then, Sarah announced that she was ready to go. Bucky helped Steve slowly stand up and get his footing before they made their way out the door and started the long walk down the stairs. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had done this, and he knew when Steve needed to take a break and lean on him to catch his breath. The trio eventually made it to the building’s main floor, and Bucky let Sarah take over.

“Thank you again, James,” she said, giving his hand a grateful squeeze.

“My pleasure,” Bucky replied. “I’ll drop by on my way home to check in. Hang in there, Steve,” he added.

“You got it, Buck,” Steve replied, giving him a brief but genuine smile that twisted Bucky’s heart. “See you soon.”

Sarah and Steve turned headed to the doors. Bucky watched them go, lingering by the doors until they turned a corner and vanished from view. He sighed and trudged back to the stairs, hoping Steve was strong enough to keep his promise.

 

— February 1945 —

It surprised Bucky how much time he had to think as he fell.

Or, maybe it just felt like a lot of time. He’d always heard that his life was supposed to “flash before his eyes” as he died, but in the trenches, as guns fired non-stop and his fellow soldiers fell around him, he thought the experience would be just that — flashes. Instead, as Steve and the train sped away from him and he from them, he found himself reliving almost full memories.

He remembered the first time he met Steve. They had met on the playground at school, of course, and Steve was getting his eight-year-old behind handed to him, of course. Bucky, a year older, easily scattered the bullies and helped Steve up from the ground. He’d never been sure what exactly drew him to Steve, but he was glad for whatever it was.

He remembered his first kiss, which had been with a girl named Dot. They were 14, and it happened behind the school right before classes ended for the summer. He spent the next several years with girl after girl after girl, loving it at first and then wondering if there was something more, something better.

He remembered the first time he’d gotten drunk. It was with Steve, of course, and Steve was worried they’d get in trouble, of course. They’d stood on the roof of Steve’s building, just a couple of kids from Brooklyn looking out at their city and drinking whisky straight from the half-full bottle Bucky had swiped from his parents’ secret stash. Steve didn’t need more than a few sips before he started to feel it. Bucky remembered climbing up to sit on the ledge while Steve fretted and kept both feet on the ground. He remembered looking at Steve with a particular fondness he couldn’t define at the time.

He remembered getting his draft letter. He’d just arrived home from a long day split between working at the docks and at the factory to find his mother sitting sadly at the kitchen table with the envelope unopened in front of her. He’d known at once what it was. He’d put on a brave face for his family, for Steve, but fear had coursed through him from the moment he knew he’d have to go. He’d worried how his family would get along without him, how Steve would get along without him, whether Steve would stop trying to put himself in any more danger than he was already in just by living in a drafty apartment in a polluted city. He worried he’d never be able to tell Steve how he’d felt for the past several years.

He remembered seeing Steve again for the first time after being captured by HYDRA. He’d been shocked to see the transformation Steve had been through, and he’d wondered whether the same thing would happen to him after Zola’s experiments. He’d been somewhat relieved to see that Steve’s character was unchanged — that the only difference between the Steve he grew up with and this new Steve was that his body could now keep up with his mind and heart.

Bucky let that thought flood his mind and body. Steve was strong now, Steve would be safe. Bucky couldn’t be there to protect him anymore, but he’d protected him as long as he needed.

As the train, seemingly miles away now, faded from view, Bucky closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn’t feel the impact. He fixed an image of Steve, laughing and happy and healthy, in his mind and knew in his heart that he’d see him again someday.

_Take your time, Steve_ , he thought. _Please, take your time_.

 

— July 2014 —

Barnes stood in the shadows at a window in a rarely-used office building about a hundred yards from the row of what appeared to be abandoned military housing units that Rogers and Wilson were scouting. Wilson was controlling a small, bird-like drone that buzzed in a loop around the complex about 30 feet above the buildings. The two men crept in and out of each building, presumably checking for HYDRA operatives.

Barnes had to hand it to them — they were being very thorough. They had come across some intel that the Winter Soldier had been spotted in one of the units and that it was an active HYDRA safehouse.

Both of those things were true. The place had been a safehouse, and there had been two low-level HYDRA members inside when Barnes raided it just days ago. He could have — and maybe should have — kept a low profile, but he the truth was he was getting curious, and it was easier to keep track of Rogers and Wilson if he left a few hints here and there.

Barnes had been on the run from, well, everyone for a few months since he escaped from HYDRA custody and left an injured Rogers on the banks of the Potomac. He had spent most of his time hunting down HYDRA agents in search of information about himself, but he also spent a good amount of time watching for Rogers and Wilson. It seemed like they were never more than a few steps behind him any time he made a move. He had no trouble shaking them off or avoiding them — as evidenced by the fact that he was watching them right now — but it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay away.

Some of his memories had been creeping back to him. They began as brief flashes of a feeling or a face, but they had become more detailed as of late. The strongest feeling, the first clear directive he’d felt that hadn’t been forced upon him, was an intense need to protect Rogers — but from what? The man could clearly protect himself from just about anything. Except, maybe, one thing: the Winter Soldier.

So Barnes kept his distance. He kept notebooks to fill with memories and used unearthed HYDRA and SHIELD files to fill in gaps where he could. And though he knew he was making some progress with keeping the Soldier in check, he couldn’t trust himself to make himself known to Rogers just yet.

He stayed in the window for the entire two hours and thirty-seven minutes Rogers and Wilson spent sweeping every inch of the old safehouse and the surrounding area. He knew they would only find four pages of heavily redacted HYDRA files that would lead them nowhere — he had left the pages on a desk in an upstairs bedroom. And sure enough, when they rendezvoused at the building’s front door at the end of their search, Rogers held just those crumpled pages in his left hand.

Barnes watched as Rogers hung his head in defeat. Wilson put a hand on his shoulder in consolation, and the pair set off for the jet they had landed and left in a field a mile away. When he was sure they had gone, Barnes left the window, already planning his next move and the clues he would leave there.

 

— September 2016 —

“It’ll only be three days, Buck. We’ll be back before you know it.”

Bucky rolled onto his back, his metal arm slung dramatically over his forehead.

“You’ve told me that, like, 30 times.”

Steve shifted to his side, propping his head up with one hand and resting the other on Bucky's chest.

“And you react like this every time I do.”

Bucky didn’t respond, staring instead at the ceiling of the room they’d occupied at the Avengers base in upstate New York for several months now, ever since Tony and the others had insisted they relocate from the apartment they’d shared in Washington, D.C. It had been about two years since Bucky had decided to stop running and find Steve, who had slowly introduced him to the rest of the team.

Steve and several of the other Avengers — Natasha, Clint, Tony, Rhodey, Wanda, even Sam — were set to leave for a short mission early the next morning. Steve had indeed reminded Bucky several times that it wouldn’t be long, but Bucky was certainly not looking forward to spending days alone in the cold, industrial complex that didn’t yet feel like home while everyone else was saving the world.

Steve lifted his free hand to Bucky’s face, turning it gently toward him. Bucky reluctantly shifted his gaze to look at Steve.

“Tell me what’s really bothering you,” Steve said.

Bucky sighed. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here while you’re gone.”

“The same things you do when I’m here. All the books and computers and training rooms will still be here, surely you can entertain yourself for a couple of days with all that.”

“Well, sure, but…” Bucky trailed off, intending to let the conversation end there. But it was very, very hard to lie to Steve. “I’ll be useless here,” he muttered.

Steve’s expression changed from one of concern to one of sadness.

“Oh, don’t give me that fucking look, Rogers,” Bucky said, sitting up and folding his arms across his chest.

Steve scoffed and sat up, too. “Well, _Barnes_ , what else do you want me to do? You said just last week that you didn’t feel ready for a mission yet. Have you changed your mind?”

Bucky uncrossed his arms and let his hands fall to his lap. He stared down at his left hand, watching the dim light from the lamp on Steve’s side of the bed reflect off the metal as he flexed it. He shook his head.

“I still wish I could help,” he said. “It’s not fair. To you or them. We all spend every day training and reading up and researching leads, but when it really matters, there’s nothing I can do.”

“First of all,” Steve said, “we do not spend every day training. Two days ago, we all spent the entire day on a ‘Lord of the Rings’ marathon because Clint got mad that we hadn’t seen them yet.”

Bucky smiled in spite of himself. That had been a good day.

“Second, you have been extremely helpful to all of us. You can look at the same information some of us have been analyzing for days and find connections we could never make. And you’re the first person Maria asks to determine whether new information is credible. This team could not do the work it does if you weren’t with us.”

Bucky finally gave up the surly act and leaned into Steve’s embrace. “You are too nice to me,” he said.

“Turns out that’s what I was put on this Earth to do,” Steve replied, pulling Bucky in close. “Fight bullies and be good to you.”

They sat that way for just a moment before Steve suddenly spoke again.

“What if you could help us from here?” he said.

Bucky shifted to look at Steve, bewildered. “How?”

“I bet Maria would be more than happy to have your help with the comms,” Steve replied. “She’s the one directing the mission, she’s got all the maps and intel and I’m sure she wouldn’t say no to some extra brainpower on this end.”

Bucky thought about it. “I could do that,” he said after a minute’s consideration.

“Done,” Steve said, grabbing his phone from its place by the lamp and firing off a quick message to Maria.

Bucky looked at the analog alarm clock on his own bedside table. It was after 2 a.m.

“You need to sleep,” he said, shifting back to his side of the bed. “Mission starts in four hours.”

“I guess,” Steve said, turning off the light and settling in. “You should, too, now that you’re officially on the roster.”

Bucky rolled over to face Steve, tilting his head up to kiss him gently. “Thank you,” he said.

He felt Steve’s lips curve into a smile. “Welcome,” he replied.

Steve was out in minutes. And Bucky tried to fall asleep, too, he really did. He willed his mind to calm and tried to slow his breathing to match Steve’s, but to no avail. He lay awake, relishing the hours of Steve’s closeness, until Steve’s phone buzzed at 5 a.m. and the mission prep began.

Later, as Bucky watched Steve and the others board the plane, he couldn’t shake the worry he felt that Steve was headed into danger and he couldn’t protect him. He faked a smile when Steve gave him a last look before disappearing into the jet. As its engines roared to life, Bucky turned and trudged back toward the complex’s main building. He was surprised to see Maria waiting for him at the entrance.

When he reached her, she nodded toward the plane that was now taxiing toward the runway.

“Wanna help them come back safe?” she asked matter-of-factly.

Bucky nodded.

“Then let’s get started.”

 

— April 2017 —

There was no beating around the bush — Steve was in the weeds.

Literally and figuratively, actually. The day’s mission involved finding and destroying a stockpile of leftover HYDRA weapons from a previously undiscovered base in South America, and everything had gone according to plan until he and Natasha found partially burned documents that described a second weapons cache in the jungle a good three miles from the base. Steve volunteered to check it out while Natasha, Clint and Sam secured the base and catalogued the weapons they had found and Bucky and Wanda waited on the plane to relay information to and from the base in New York.

Perhaps foolishly, Steve hadn’t expected to meet more HYDRA operatives along the way, let alone a dozen of them, all armed. He knocked out three with his shield to start, but the rest backed him into a small grove of trees that provided only minimal cover. It seemed like they had endless ammunition — the bullets didn’t stop flying long enough for him to toss the shield again or even sneak a look to assess the situation.

Steve was just about to radio the others for backup when he heard two bodies drop and the hail of bullets suddenly stopped. He took the opportunity to dash out of his hiding spot and take out the four agents closest to him. He turned to continue the fight but was met with the sight of every other agent already on the ground and Bucky walking toward him, flipping his combat knife idly with his right hand.

“Thought you could face all these guys on your own, huh?” Bucky said, wiping the blade on his pant leg and sticking it back in the sheath on his belt.

“Buck! I thought you were-”

“-on the plane, I know. Yeah, I’m done hanging back.”

Bucky didn’t stop walking until he was barely a foot away from Steve.

“Do you realize that had I not followed you out here, these guys would have, at best, taken you hostage, and that I would have had to follow them to God knows where to rescue your ass? And we’re not even gonna talk about the worst-case scenario.”

“It wasn’t-“

Bucky cut him off. “Yeah, it was that bad, you’re just too much of a stubborn goddamn punk to admit when you’re in trouble.”

He paused, and Steve looked guiltily at the ground.

“But, it doesn’t matter now, seeing as there will be no more solo missions for you.”

Steve looked back up, brow furrowed.

“Nope, not happening,” Bucky continued. “Look, Steve. It’s been a rough couple of years since I pulled you outta that river in D.C. I may not have it all together yet, and it may be a long time before I do — hell, I still have HYDRA programming swimming around in my brain, for fuck’s sake. But the one thing I’ve got going for me right now is you, and if I lose you on some stupid mission, that’s it. Critical failure. And I can’t let that happen. So from now on, I’m coming with you.” He paused. “I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, pal, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Steve stared at Bucky, who stared right back, jaw set, eyes ablaze, as if he was daring Steve to argue with him. But Steve just smiled.

“I love you, too,” he said, and he closed the gap between them and pulled Bucky in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This work fits in with my other Marvel work, "These Things That I've Done," which takes place between the July 2014 and September 2016 sections of this piece.
> 
> Thanks for reading! You can find me at erin-emily-writes.tumblr.com. Come chat!


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